


the boy with the rose tattoo

by eighthcaramel



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Cult, M/M, Occult, Supernatural - Freeform, and also probably really dark, does the summary even make sense, im sorry if there are any errors, itll get better i promise, please give this a try
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:17:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3217226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eighthcaramel/pseuds/eighthcaramel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke is a nobody. As he tries to figure out why, he meets the new student, Ashton.<br/>Little does he know, though, that a simple mark on Ashton's wrist means that he's a part of something dark and dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Life sucked for Luke. He barely has any friends. His grades are the most average of average grades. He was practically ignored by the majority of the student body. And those that did pay attention to him were either rude or indifferent.

He doesn’t understand why.

He’s looked in the mirror, and he isn’t _that_ bad looking. In fact, he’d say he’s pretty average. That’s something, right?

His grades were, as stated, average. They weren’t bad. But he’s not someone you’d want to copy off of, either.

What else could he be missing?

He thought about this 21/7. He just didn’t get it. It’s not fair. It just isn’t _fair!!!_

It was lunch, and his eyebrows were furrowed. His eyes were narrowed, glaring his lunch tray in frustration. Liam, one of the guys who’s been _nice_ to Luke and let him sit with his group, was scrolling through his phone with a blank expression.

“Liam?” Luke calls out.

Liam doesn’t respond.

“Liam.”

“Hm?” Liam finally replies, not looking up from the brightly lit screen.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Lots of things.”

Luke sighs angrily. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Zayn, who is sitting to the right of Liam, speaks up. “I don’t like that new student.”

“New student?” Liam and Luke say simultaneously.

“Yeah. You guys haven’t seen him?” Zayn looks at the two questioningly, ignoring the rest of the group’s arguing over something stupid.

“I haven’t,” Luke says whilst picking at his slimy mashed potatoes with his plastic fork. School food is gross.

“He’s creepy. It’s like he can see right through you.”

“That sounds cliché.” Liam turns his attention back to his phone.

Zayn takes a bite of the extremely tender steak. “It’s true though. He has staring issues.”

“I doubt it.”

“He’s staring at us right now.” Zayn points somewhere behind Luke with his fork. And of course, Luke turns around to see what the new student looks like. “The guy in the far corner,” he says with a mouth full of food.

The guy was sitting alone and had curly, light brown hair. He was far away, so it was hard to tell what his features were and what he was doing. His head was towards Luke’s group, but he very well could’ve been looking at the extremely large, extremely bright poster about eating healthy that was situated a few tables behind Luke’s.

New kids are always interesting. “Where did you come from?” “Do you like it here?” “Do you miss home?” Their entire background is a mystery waiting to be solved by any detective willing enough to pry.

Luke felt bad for the kid sitting alone in the corner. Surely it was hard to make friends. It always is. He’s been in the situation before, moving from place to place. (Not anymore, however.)

And being the nice, kind human being he is, he stands, bidding farewell to his ‘friends’ and walks over to the trash bins with his tray and messenger bag, despite their protests. After taking care of his tray, he takes fast steps over to this new student, who had most definitely caught sight of him. His bright hazel eyes followed him even as he stopped directly in front of the table. He doesn’t say anything and only stares at Luke. It was unnerving.

Luke’s words get stuck in his throat. He feels fear. “Can. . . Can I sit here?” He points to the chair sitting in front of the boy. The boy quietly looks to the chair for a few seconds. The corners of his mouth dip ever so slightly into a frown as he does so, but eventually, he nods slightly.

Luke quickly takes a seat, feeling the amount of awkwardness in the atmosphere increase. He sets his messenger bag on the empty space on the table, staring at it with a blank, if not frightened, expression. He could feel this guy’s gaze burning into his skull (he wasn’t hiding it, either). He decides to break the ice. “S-so, what’s your name?” Luke questions, looking up.

The boy’s face was wiped clean of any emotion. “Ashton.” He fiddles with the hem of his black jacket sleeve.

“I’m Luke.” Luke extends his hand across the table. Ashton only stares at it, blinking a few times.

He doesn’t touch it.

Luke awkwardly and slowly takes his hand back. He contemplates on whether he should go back to his group, who are all currently gawking at him and this ‘Ashton,’ but decides against it. Luke decides to be productive since they have plenty of time until lunch is over, so he opens his bag and pulls out the journal he uses for math.

And boy, he cannot get anything done.

He wishes he hadn’t come over here. He wishes he had stayed with his own kind in his natural habitat, safe and secure. It’s scary with this new kid. Whenever Luke glanced up, he saw those big eyes staring back at him.

“Why are you over here?” Ashton suddenly asks.

“B-because.”

“Why?”

“You looked lonely.”

“I’m not. I’d prefer to be alone.”

Luke saw the opportunity to leave and took it. “Fine, then.” He was tired and scared. Ashton was giving off too many bad vibes. He stands, collects his things, and heads outside as the bell rings.

All he wanted to do was try to make a friend. And out of fear, he ran.

 

The rest of the day went by slowly, much to Luke’s dismay. He wanted to go home and cry to his mum, or _anyone._ He was so, _so_ tired of this.

He was running through the halls of the school building when he turns the corner and bumps into something, or, some _one_. Luke topples over the person, groaning in pain. Whatever the other person had been holding had gotten everywhere. Papers, pencils, anything school-related were scattered across the tiled floor.

Luke struggles to breathe as he tries to apologize. “S. . . Sorry. . .” He slowly gets up to where he’s leaning on his elbows. He sees the person between his arms, underneath him.

It was Ashton.

His curly hair was a mess, and he was trembling slightly with eyes shut tight. The black jacket he had been wearing had been removed, and he just seemed to be. . . A wreck. Actually, now that Luke takes a closer look, Ashton has a few bruises on his neck and shoulder.

“A. . . Ashton?” Luke sits up, crawling off of Ashton and helping him sit up.

Ashton’s eyes shoot open, and his eyes are wild with fear. He stares at Luke like a deer caught in headlights until he finally blinks and hurriedly begins to gather his things.

“A-Ashton, what happened?” Luke places a hand on Ashton’s shoulder in an attempt to slow him down or perhaps calm him, but it only makes it worse. Ashton jerks away from him, fists clenching as he stops his gathering.

“Don’t touch me,” he says, scowling.

Luke backs off, holding his hands up in defense. “S-sorry. What happened?”

“It’s none of your business.” Ashton resumes collecting.

“Ash, you-“

“Don’t call me that.”

Luke apologizes before continuing, “You’re a mess; are you going to tell me what happened? Maybe I can help.”

“Yeah? And what could you possibly do to help, huh? Please, tell me,” he says sarcastically.

“Well, I won’t know if you don’t give me the details.”

Ashton bites his lip, looking down at his things once more. He slowly begins to collect them again as he thinks. Luke does the same.

But as they do, their hands brush against each other’s.

They both freeze, stuck in the same position where their hands are touching. They stare down at their hands as if they’ve never seen them before. And Luke notes a small detail that he thinks doesn’t matter.

A tattoo.

It was a small rose on the underside of his left wrist. It was only the black contour lines of the rose, peeking out from behind a few band bracelets. And despite already knowing what it is, Luke asks, “What’s that?” as he points to Ashton’s wrist.

And Ashton nearly has a heart attack, opposite hand flying to cover his wrist in panic. “N-Nothing,” Ashton answers.

“It’s obviously something,” Luke retorts.

“It’s none of your business,” Ashton says yet again.

“When did you get it?”

“A long time ago,” Ashton answers after some hesitation.

“Does it mean anything?”

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“I can’t say.”

Luke notices the many scars on the same arm with the tattoo but before he can open his mouth to say anything, Ashton stands up after gathering the rest of his things.

And Ashton walks off, leaving Luke sitting on his knees.

 

 

The next day, Luke was basically clinging to Ashton. He didn’t want to go to anyone else. Not to his old friend group, to a teacher or someone else. He felt like he could start a new life with Ashton around. Build a new reputation.

They had three classes together: Math, Art, and English. Luke just now noticed because Ashton sat in the back in all three of the classes.

Luke was overjoyed when he found out that Ashton’s house was in the same direction his was. And, _he walked too!_

Luke was right on Ashton’s heels, staring at the concrete sidewalk. He hated the awkward silence that always seemed to occur between the two. He wanted desperately to talk freely with Ashton. He wants – no, _needs_ a friend. He needs someone to talk to about anything and everything.

And Luke finally speaks after however many minutes of silence. “What was that tattoo thing about?”

“What tattoo thing?” Ashton’s voice is monotonous.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Luke grabs Ashton’s wrist – his left wrist, mind you – forcing him to stop. Ashton turns around to glare at him as Luke speaks, “What about the scars?”

Ashton’s eyes bulge at this. “What scars?”

“On your arm.” Luke moves to pull up Ashton’s sleeve, but Ashton pulls away.

“ _Don’t_.”

“Ashton-“

“Listen, I didn’t ask you to follow me around everywhere. I didn’t ask you to be my friend. I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want to be _anyone’s_ friend. Please, just leave me be.”

And with that, Ashton spun on his heel and walked away with quick steps, leaving Luke hurt and dumbfounded.


	2. Chapter 2

Honestly? Luke was curious.

And even more honestly? Luke was worried.

Should he tell someone? Probably. But will he? Probably not. Why? Because Ashton would most likely tear off his head.

But Luke didn’t understand! What could be so bad about telling someone the reason you got a tattoo?! Luke supposes it depends on the reason, but he could at least politely tell him he doesn’t want to tell anyone!

And the scars! There were so many on his arm, it was unbelievable! Luke wanted to help him. If not, _needed_ to help him. He’ll end up bleeding out if he doesn’t do something about it!

And why was he so disheveled? What on earth happened? He had a few bruises, and he seemed very afraid. The only thing Luke wanted to do was hold him. He wanted to protect him from all things harmful.

The next time Luke saw Ashton was the next morning. He was in the same spot in the corner in the cafeteria, staring out of the window this time. His head rested on his hand, his elbow on the table.

Luke walks over to him after much hesitation. “Hi,” he says under his breath.

Ashton ignores him. The only thing that shows that he heard Luke is that he had grimaced.

Luke attempts to get rid of the nervous lump in his throat. “How is your day?”

“Horrible.”

“Why?”

“Because _you’re_ here.”

“Ashton, I-“

“I don’t care what you have to say.” Ashton stands up, closing his eyes dismissively. “I’m going to class.”

“But the bell hasn’t-“

The bell rings.

 

 

Art. . . Happened.

Luke had trudged into the art room, almost scared to see Ashton again. Every time he had passed Ashton in the hallways, Ashton always made a point to glare at him. Luke always would cast his gaze to the tiled floor.

Luke took a seat, waiting for class to start as people began to fill the room. Ashton was one of those people.

They were working on abstract art, and Luke had barely even began his. He doesn’t even know what colors he wants to use! The teacher gave the class the option of painting in color or in black and white, but Luke was still so unsure.

Luke’s chair at his table was angled to the back of the room, so he had the _perfect_ view of Ashton.

And boy, Ashton was on a roll.

He had just got here – what, a few days ago? And he was already painting! He must’ve taken it home yesterday to finish drawing it. That was the only solution! Ashton had a palette full of extremely bright colors, from what Luke could see. Every time Luke saw Ashton swiping the brush across the canvas, he got more and more curious. His eyes were getting harder and harder to pry away from Ashton.

The thing is, Ashton started to notice.

Ashton began to sense that someone was watching him. His brows creased, and he began looking around the room in search for the culprit. His gaze finally lands on Luke and he scowls. They stare into each other’s eyes for a minute or so until Luke pulls his eyes away shyly. He stares down at his unfinished canvas sadly.

Class went by reasonably slow. Most of the. . . Rowdier students had gotten paint everywhere, and after he heard Ashton volunteer to help clean up, Luke said he would too. All of the art supplies belonged in the back room.

The teacher had to run to the main office for some reason, leaving the two alone. Much to their dismay.

Ashton refused to talk to him. He walked quickly, eager to get out of the same room that Luke was in.

Luke was walking slowly, however. He felt like he was being stabbed in the heart. It hurt. Really bad. Was it really that hard for Luke to make _one_ friend?

Luke began picking up the bottles of paint. He tries to carry a lot of them at once to get done quicker. He stares down at the colors as he walks. Red, black, white. . .

“ _OOF!!_ ”

Luke falls to the floor and lands on something squishy and wet. He tries to get off of the squishy thing, which is now moving and groaning, only to slip and fall back down on it.

Opening his eyes, he sees that he had landed on Ashton. Again.

With his eyes open, he also sees that they are both covered in paint of a variety of colors.

Oh, no! The paint bottles burst open.

Luke’s eyes widen as he blushes, once again trying to get off of Ashton. “I am so sorry!!” he says, falling back down on Ashton. His body is pressed close against Ashton’s. But then Luke finally manages to stand, and he offers a hand to Ashton. Ashton doesn’t accept it and stands up by himself. He glares at Luke, putting his hands on his hips.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Ashton shouts, white and red paint dripping off of his face and torso.

Luke holds his hands up in defense. “I said I’m sorry!”

“Why weren’t you paying attention?!”

“I-I don’t know!!” Luke wants to cry.

Ashton huffs. “I can’t believe this.” He walks over to the sinks, sliding his jacket off his arms and tossing it onto one of the tables. Damn, he must work out or something. Ashton begins washing his hands and wiping his face.

Luke looks down at himself shamefully. He’s covered in paint and he feels ridiculous. The scent causes him to sniffle. His mum will kill him when she sees him like this. Not only that, if word gets out around the school, he’ll be in a worse situation than he is now. Imagine all of the people laughing at him and putting him down. God, he hated this.

He wipes at his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the paint around them, but he only succeeds in smearing the paint and getting it his eyes. They begin to water. He closes them, the stinging becoming too much.

“Why are you crying?” He hears Ashton ask softly. As he reopens his eyes, he sees Ashton standing directly in front of him, all in his few-inches-shorter-than-Luke-and-also-covered-in-paint glory.

Luke tries to defend himself. “”I-I’m not. . .”

“Luke, don’t lie.” Ashton had a blue towel in his hand that he had gotten from the back room.

And slowly, Ashton gently wipes the paint off of Luke’s face.

As Luke stares down at Ashton, red-faced and eyes wide, his heart races. Ashton’s expression is mostly blank, with the exception of his slightly narrowed hazel eyes. It looks as if he’s trying to keep himself from scowling.

“Look at you. You’ve made such a huge mess,” Ashton mutters. “You got it in your hair.”

Luke resists the urge to scream and cry. He spent _forever_ trying to get his quiff perfect!!

Regardless, he stays quiet as Ashton dabs at his cheeks. He can feel some of the paint drying.

And as Ashton continues his task, Luke gets an idea. He lifts one of his hands up to Ashton’s face, caressing it and swiping his thumb across his cheek, which had a drop of paint on it. Ashton freezes, and his eyes gradually widen.

Time seems to stop.

Oh, but then the art teacher walked back in and yelped.

“WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?!”

Well, let’s just say walking into a room partially drenched in paint and two boys grooming each other was _not_ the best thing that could have happened.

 

 

“Are you sure you’ll leave me alone?”

“Yes.” Luke’s voice is firm.

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely positive.”

Ashton goes completely silent. “Alright. . .” He extends his left arm, pulling his sleeve up. He’s very glad that Luke knew of this secluded place. It’s near the school, towards the side. It’s also in an alleyway.

Luke immediately grabs Ashton’s wrist, examining the scars. Some of them are scabs, and others are just old and grey scars. He brushes his fingers across them gently.

“Are you done yet?” Ashton asks impatiently.

“No.” Luke’s finger traces the scars down to the rose. The black inked rose. He stares at it with much concentration in an attempt to embed the image into his brain. “It’s pretty.”

“What?”

“Your tattoo. It’s cute.”

A light pink blush settles on Ashton’s cheeks. “Um.”

“What?”

“No more.” Ashton pulls away, replacing his sleeve. He averts his eyes and begins to walk out of the alley.

But Luke grabs Ashton’s hand once more.

Ashton whips around with a glare. “Luke, what do you want _now?!_ ”

“Why do you cut yourself?”

“I. . . won’t say.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t.”

“Ashton, you can’t do this. You’re hurting yourself.”

“You need to stay out of my business. For your own good.”

“Ashton, I’m serious.”

“You said you’d leave me alone.” Ashton’s voice is small. He’s no longer glaring at Luke. Instead, he stares at the ground blankly.

“Ash. . .”

Ashton’s gaze slowly lifts up to Luke’s bright blue eyes. “What?”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Luke is very sincere. He’d never tell anyone. Ever.

“I already told you my answer.” Ashton tries to pull away, but Luke’s grip is tight.

“Ashton-“

“Luke, let go-“

And then Luke turns Ashton around to face him, grabbing his shoulders. “Ashton, I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I _won’t!_ ” Ashton snaps, jerking away from Luke. He stands still, head down. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Ashton, please. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Yes, you do! Ash, you-“

“Luke, I’ve had enough. Goodbye.” Ashton spins on his heel only to halt once more as Luke speaks.

“Will you at least tell me why?” Luke’s voice is soft, as well as hesitant.

Ashton bites his lip in thought. It feels like eternity before he finally answers.

“You promise you won’t tell anyone? And you’ll leave me alone?” he mutters. Luke can barely hear him.

“I promise!” Luke shouts automatically.

Ashton doesn’t say anything at first, and the only thing that could be heard was the gentle breeze that danced with various loose items out in the street.

And at last, Ashton gives his final answer.

“Fine. But you’ll have to come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm extremely sleep deprived and for those of you who saw my pretty large mistake i'm sorry lmao but thanks for reading anyways! !! !!! !!!! !!!!!!! im going to go to bed now have a nice day. i'll get the third chapter up by the end of this weekend!


	3. Chapter 3

So much walking was taking place. Luke didn’t know how many steps he had taken. He was so, so, _so_ tired. “Are we there yet?” he manages to ask Ashton for the umpteenth in between pants.

“Almost,” Ashton would say. He said that every time Luke would question him. They never seemed to get any closer to their destination, wherever their destination may be.

Luke is sure it’s been hours when they finally arrive at some sort of forest. They were no longer in the city or suburbs anymore. There was plenty of room to walk due to the fact that the trees were fairly spread out, unlike normal forests. There was still plenty of shrubs and grasses loitering the dirt ground, however. Luke’s crystal clear eyes had widened, and his mouth had parted slightly in amazement. He’d never seen anything like this before! It was simply beautiful!

The bark on the trees were a glorious color of sienna, and the sunlight shone through the bright green leaves, speckling the forest floor. The majority of the shrubs are a pretty dark green. Birds of various colors rode the wind or sat perched on the branches of the trees.

Luke had stopped, staring at the beauty of the woods. He didn’t notice Ashton had kept on walking, so when he looked forward, he jumped and ran to catch up.

“Took you long enough,” Ashton says when Luke walks beside him.

“S-Sorry.” Luke swallows the awkward lump in his throat. “How much longer?” His legs are about to give up.

“Almost.” Same as always.

About half an hour later, they take a left turn onto a rocky path. The path is narrow, leading up to what Luke thinks is a cave. Luke suddenly feels suspicious. He begins fearing for his life. Could he trust Ashton? What is Ashton going to do?

Ten minutes more, and they were inside the cave. Inside the cave was damp, dark, and musty. Luke finds that he doesn’t like it in here. It was rather frightening.

Because of the darkness, Luke jumps out of his skin when he feels a hand grab his hand and pull him forward. It takes him a minute to realize it’s Ashton. Luke lets himself be dragged further into the cave. Soon enough, he sees a dim, dim light ahead. It gradually grows larger the more they walk. He sees that it’s a candle once they’re close enough. There’s another candle every ten feet.

“Watch your step,” he hears Ashton whisper. Luke nearly trips as they walk down a stone staircase. They walk down a shadowy corridor with no candles whatsoever.

And then they enter a large, large room made out of stone. There are plenty candles in this room, as well as people dressed in mostly black. Luke’s jaw drops as he sees the three large, rectangular banners on the walls – one on the far wall, the left wall, and the right wall. On the far banner was a black inked hollow circle, and the left banner had a black inked full circle, and the right banner was a black inked half circle. The banners’ main color is a dark, dark red that resembled blood.

The people hadn’t noticed their entrance, so Luke still had time to examine them. They were all ridiculously pale, and some wore black cloaks, with some wearing the hood while others didn’t.

Luke makes sure to keep the path leading to what seems higher ground in mind. The path is slanted, and it was hard to see what was on the second floor. It’s connected to the far wall.

Ashton sighs, causing Luke to look at him. When Luke looks at him, he sees a very angry and very thin man stomping towards them. Luke hides behind Ashton instinctively.

“Ashton Fletcher, what do you think you’re doing?!” the man yells. He places his hands on Ashton’s shoulders, shaking him violently.

“I-I can explain. . .” Ashton trails off.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?!” the man yells, glaring. His hood was over his head, casting his face in shadows, so the only thing that could be seen is the burning flames between his eyelids.

“Yes, Calum.”

“Explain yourself!!”

Ashton bites his lip, remaining silent. His gaze is glued to the dirt floor. “He wanted to know. . .”

“So you told him?!”

“I didn’t tell him anything. I just led him here.”

“But _why_?! Answer me!!” Ashton’s gulp could be heard as Calum’s grip tightened on his shoulders.

Ashton wouldn’t talk, and Luke hoped for the best.

Unfortunately, the best did not happen.

Luke is startled when the thin man slaps Ashton across the face. Ouch.

Ashton’s head is sent to the side, and Luke sees that his expression is blank. Luke wouldn’t allow this. . . No, he won’t allow this at all!

And so Luke grabs Ashton’s shoulder and switches their positions, putting on the most intimidating look he can manage. “Don’t you dare,” he growls.

He barely notices it, but one of Calum’s eyebrows raises. “Oh?” is all he says.

Luke feels Ashton’s hand on his shoulder. “Luke, stop it.  Let me handle this,” he hisses.

“I don’t want anyone hurting you!” He didn’t care who it was; be it someone he knew or didn’t know, Ashton was _not_ going to get hurt. Not anymore. Luke wouldn’t let him do this to himself.

Luke can’t see Ashton bite his lip out of nervousness, but as he glares at the incredibly rude man, the man takes off his hood, revealing tan skin and dark hair. His eyes are dark as well, and his jaw was sharp enough to cut a diamond. Luke blinks, letting his guard down for a split second. He didn’t look as mean as he sounded.

“You understand what must happen, Ashton.” This tan man’s tone was strict, as if he was scolding a child.

“I know, Calum. . .”

“It’s up to you to tell him, you know.” Calum crosses his arms.

“What?” Luke steps to the side to look back and forth from Calum to Ashton. “Tell me what?”

“Yeah,” Ashton says in response to Calum.

And then Calum turns back to the direction he came, walking away and carrying on with his business. Luke faces Ashton. “Tell me what?” he repeats.

“Th-That. . .” Ashton trails off as he looks to the side. Looking to the side as well, Luke notices a bright blue pond taking up about one-third of the room.

“Tell me.” Luke is very serious at this point. What is it that is so important?!

“You have to join us,” Ashton finally says, eyes traveling to the floor.

“’Us?’ What do you mean ‘us?’”

“’Us’ as in our family.”

“What do you mean?”

“. . . Our cult,” Ashton mutters, finding no other way to describe it.

Luke nearly chokes at this. “Cult?!” he shouts. “Why do I have to join your cult?!”

“Since you’ve already found out about our existence, you have to either end your life or become one of us.”

Luke was appalled. “No way!”

“You have to.” Ashton crosses his arms. He was getting tired of this.

“And what exactly do you do in this _cult?!”_

“Give ourselves to our mistress.”

“Mistress? _Mistress?!”_ Luke takes a few steps back, ignoring the other people’s staring at him. “Does this ‘mistress’ even exist?!”

And Ashton snaps, “Yes, she does! Of course she does, what makes you think she _doesn’t?!_ ”

Luke’s eyes narrow, if they weren’t narrowed before. His eyebrows are creased, and he lets his gaze drop to the ground. He doesn’t want to join a cult, but that’s obvious. His hands clench and unclench repeatedly.

“You have no choice, unless you’d prefer to die.” Ashton sighs. “Sorry.” He walks forward, placing a comforting hand on Luke’s shoulder.

The silence that then takes place seems like forever, but then Luke sighs softly and speaks. “What do I have to do?”

“Honestly? It’d be easier to show you.”

 

 

Further into the dim cavern, Ashton sat with Luke on a stone bench with no back, holding an old, maroon leather book. Ashton read out loud to Luke, and Luke did his best to listen, though his mind had a hard time staying off the topic of _he had to join a cult_.

“We do this weekly,” Ashton says, staring down at the page.

“Every week?”

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“At first, yes. But you get used to it.”

Luke gulps. “C-Can you repeat it all to me?”

Ashton chuckles bitterly. “Yeah,” he says. And then, he begins. “You’ll first have to burn the human sacrifice on the wooden crucifix, and then place the three nightshades on the altar. The flowers count for everyone, and not for each person.” Taking a breath, Ashton continues: “Next, cut the wrist horizontally and let the blood flow into the water in the main hall. Everyone has to do this, and the entire body of water will turn red, so don’t be surprised.”

“You said it stays red for the entire night earlier. Why?”

“Our mistress likes it that way, we assume.”

“O-Oh.”

Swallowing before speaking his next words, Ashton begins, “And then we speak to her ladyship.”

“Alright. . .”

“Now hush.” Ashton clears his throat before continuing:

_“Damned are the ignorant, for her ladyship will not accept the dunces._

_Damned are the cruel, for her ladyship will punish the wicked._

_Damned are the unsettled, for her ladyship will refuse to help the undetermined._

_Her ladyship, we beg for forgiveness for any wrong doings we may have committed._

_Her ladyship, we offer your favorite meals fit for a feast._

_Her ladyship, accept the burning flesh we give you, and the fresh petals we hand over._

_Her ladyship, accept the blood of your kin, who wish to please you in any way they can._

_Her ladyship, accept the love and intimacy you see displayed here._

_The moon will take thee,_

_If thou will protect the stars,_

_And worship Mistress Nox to the fullest.”_

Luke blinks, noticing something he hadn’t before. “Love and intimacy?”

“Yeah.”

“What does it mean by that?”

“The chosen pair will make love.”

“Why?” Luke’s face heats up. His face always turns red when he talks about topics such as this.

“Because our mistress believes in love more than anything. It’ll definitely work if the pair are truly in love with each other.”

Luke slowly nods in acknowledgment. He lets his mind wander to a different subject. “What do they mean by ‘ignorant’?”

“Those who do not worship her ladyship.”

“What about unsettled?”

“Those who aren’t sure whether to believe in Mistress Nox or not.”

“Ah. . .”

“We do it every Sunday.”

“Why Sunday?”

“Do you always have this many questions?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Ashton sighs, standing up after closing the book. Luke notes that the cover says in capital gold letters “NOX.”

Luke stands as well, following Ashton over to the bookshelf that was pushed up against the wall. Luke blinks, realizing something. “It’s Friday. . .”

After he sets the book back in its place, Ashton speaks. “Yeah.”

Turning on his heel, Ashton calls out over his shoulder, “Sunday’s just around the corner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really can't wait to write the next chapter!!!!!!!!! !! !!!!!! !!!! also this was kinda rushed so i apologize for any mistakes orz  
> thank you so much for reading!!! !!!!!!! i love you all so much!!!!!!


	4. Chapter 4

Luke is nervous as _fuck._ What the hell else would he be?! The past few days were a blur!! He joined a cult, for crying out loud!! Not intentionally, though. Duh.

He sat anxiously on one of the stone benches in the cavern, fumbling with the hem of his sleeve. He hates the feeling of the cold sweat running down his back, and the way he feels so hot in his clothes. His hands are clammy, and he honestly wants to cry.

It’s Sunday.

Yeah, it’s Sunday, and Luke is scared shitless.

The part that scared him the most is the sacrifice they’ll have to offer to their so-called “mistress.” He’s never witnessed someone die purposefully in front of his own two eyes. He’s never witnessed someone die at all! He didn’t want anyone to die because of this. . . No, he didn’t want that. . .

No one deserves to die.

Another thing that Luke is worried about is slitting his wrist. He knew it was going to hurt like hell. Ewugh.

Luke’s leg bounces up and down due to his nervousness. His eyes dart from object to object, from the odd plants growing through the cracks in the stone floor to the large creepy banners. After a while he decides to keep his gaze on the floor.

He jumps out of his skin, though, when he feels a cold hand on his shoulder. Turning his head, he sees Ashton staring at him with an expression wiped clean. “It’s almost time, Luke,” Ashton says softly.

“I-I know.”

“You haven’t changed yet.”

Luke hasn’t, in fact, changed yet. Everyone is required to wear specific clothing items. Ashton had failed to mention this until the last minute, which caused Luke to fret even more so. The clothing required consists of a simple black outfit ( _anything_ black will do) underneath a black cloak. The main item of importance is the ring that every member of the cult must wear. It’s a very beautiful silver ring with a ruby red gemstone, belonging on the middle finger of the left hand.

Luke only nods slowly in response.

“You can either change by yourself or I’ll do it for you.” Ashton’s tone is annoyed as he crosses his arms.

Luke’s face is lit aflame, and he blurts out on instinct, “N-No!!”

“Then hurry. We aren’t going to wait for you, you know.”

Luke gulps. Staring at the floor again, he speaks. “I’m scared.” His voice is small.

“I know. But you have no choice.” Ashton had meant to say these words gently, but they came out rushed and impatient.

Luke bites his lip, whining. He stands up, beginning to take off his shirt. His pants were black, so there was no need to change them. His shirt, however, was a light grey.

Ashton sighs, turning his head to the side as Luke proceeds. The black t-shirt was a perfect fit on Luke. He turns back to look at Luke as Luke struggles to put on the cloak. He placed it on his shoulders, but he couldn’t figure out how to make it stay, despite the fact how simple it was.

Ashton sighs once more and takes a step forward, taking the strings at the neck of the cloak. He ties the string into a neat bow. Due to being a perfectionist, Ashton takes his sweet time lacing the bow. Luke blushes in both shock and embarrassment at his stupidity. He wasn’t expecting Ashton to get this close to him, therefore he was startled. “You don’t have to wear the hood if you don’t want to,” Ashton says once he finishes.

“A-Alright.” Luke glances down at the loose bow before following Ashton, who has started walking towards the pretty blue pond. He nervously eyes the wooden cross posted near the edge of the pond and the far wall. A young girl, perhaps the age of twelve, stood near the cross with a smile. She wore the cloak’s hood over her head.

Ashton can’t help but smirk. “It’s almost time,” he shout-whispers. He sounds very excited. His expression is filled with glee as well.

Luke, on the other hand, is afraid. Very, very afraid. And anxious. Don’t forget to mention anxious. He takes deep, deep breaths, attempting to slow his heart rate. As he stares at the girl, he notices that Calum, the guy he had seen when he first arrived in this place, is tying her on the crucifix, along with a few other people. The girl looks just as happy as Ashton.

Luke hesitates before saying his next words. “Is it the best idea to burn the sacrifice on wood?”

“I don’t know, and I also don’t make the rules.” A few minutes pass as they continue watching the others tie the girl, and suddenly, Ashton grabs Luke’s wrist to pull him through the growing crowd. They reach the front of the crowd shortly, and it is assumed that all of the members of the cult has arrived. Knowingly, everyone stands a certain distance away from the crucifix.

A bead of sweat runs down Luke’s brow and his eyes widen as he watches Calum take one of the larger candles from the wall.

And time seemed to slow down as Calum reached forward to light the crucifix.

This can’t be happening. It was all so surreal! To think, Luke joined a cult, and now he was going to sit back and watch a little girl burn to a crisp. She was so, so willing, too! This isn’t what a child’s life should be like. Not at all. A child’s life should be filled with play and happiness, not blood and fire and most likely nonexistent demon mistresses. Well, demon according to Luke.

The girl was smiling from ear to ear the entire time. She seemed so happy to do this. To do what she thought was right. That is, until the flame of the candle finally reached the cross.

Her screams were shrill. They were loud, piercing the veil that is the air and every single one of the cultists just stood there, watching. Luke couldn’t help but shudder, hands flying to cover his ears. He wants to scream, but all he is able to do is open and close his mouth repeatedly. Tears begin to roll down his cheeks. Why would they do this . . . ?

Luke feels horrible. He wants to do something to help this poor, poor young girl, but he can’t. Staring into the bright fire that seemed to burn for eternity, Luke’s depressed emotions boil from deep within him, churning his insides and making him nauseous. He needs to do something. He has to. He can’t just stand here! Why is he just standing here?!

He needs to move. He needs to do something. Anything to help her.

But he can’t. He makes great attempts to sprint out of his place and somehow save the girl, but he’s frozen solid. It’s hard to breathe.

And somehow he knows it’s already too late.

The entire experience was unimaginable. Never did Luke think he’d have to witness the burning of a child. He watches the girl’s skin begin to peel bitterly as the girl’s screams die out.

She seems to have lost consciousness. Or, maybe, her life entirely.

And Luke wants to tear someone’s head off, or perhaps his heart out. He can’t live with himself! Not anymore!! J-Just standing there, watching some scrawny girl burn alive. . .

The tears don’t stop doing what they’re doing, and Ashton must have noticed, for he reached over to gently pat Luke on the back. “You get used to it,” Ashton whispers to him.

You get used to it? _You get used to it?!_ What kind of person gets used to watching someone die every week?! What kind of person has the heart to burn someone alive every week?!

Luke knows he never liked the idea in the first place, but this only further proves his dislike for joining this stupid cult.

He wasn’t paying any attention when the flowers were placed on the altar near the pond. His vision was too blurry and his mind was too jumbled. He keeps his head down, watching his tears hit the ground.

“Luke.”

Luke doesn’t hear the voice.

“Luke?”

Luke feels lightheaded. . .

“ _Luke.”_

Luke jumps when there’s a hand on his upper arm. He swears he almost threw up! His body feels numb, and his heart hurts. He doesn’t say anything as he looks up to see Ashton standing in front of him.

“You need to complete your part.”

“What do you mean?” Luke’s voice is quiet. It was barely above a whisper.

“Give your blood to the Mistress.”

Luke can’t help but shiver. Just thinking about cutting himself makes his body tingle. What if he cuts too deep? What if he does it wrong? How bad will it hurt? He’s not ready. . . “I-I. . .”

“Hurry up.”

“B-But-“

“No, just do it. The sooner you get it over with, the sooner you can go home.”

The word _home_ rang in his ears. He missed it dearly. The first thing he was going to do when he got home was cry and cuddle with his mum and cry some more. He wanted to rant about the sad story of the small child, and the pain to come, and whatever else came next. But he knows that if he shared the story of the cult, his death was probably the next thing on their to-do list.

Luke whines. “I-I don’t want to. . .” He’s sure he resembles a child. If not in looks, then in tone.

“You have no choice.” Luke has heard this many times, obviously.

Biting his lip, Luke lets Ashton drag him over to the edge of the pond. Luke can feel all of the eyes burning into his back much like the fire had done to the young girl.

As Luke stares down at the reddening water, he sees his reflection. His quiff is partially messed up, and his face has a thick layer of sweat on it. He’s sure he can see that his eyes are puffy and red from crying. But maybe it’s just the blood in the water.

“I’ll do it with you,” Ashton says in an attempt to remove some of the tension from the tall blonde. Not that it had succeeded.

Luke only nods in acknowledgement. Ashton holds out his left arm over the crystal blue water, and Luke does his best to be in the exact position that Ashton is in. However, since Ashton is used to this, his body is very relaxed. Luke’s, though, is ridiculously stiff. No one notices. Or, if they did, they don’t show it.

 “I brought an extra knife for you since you don’t have one yet.” Ashton reaches into his cloak, perhaps into a secret pocket or something of the like, and pulls out a small sheathed dagger. “Don’t worry; it’s clean. Keep it in the pocket inside your cloak.” Yup, secret pocket.

“Okay. . .” And honestly, Luke is shocked that his voice didn’t falter.

Swiftly, Ashton slices his wrist, smiling slightly at the thick crimson liquid dripping into the water. It seemed so easy and harmless.

Luke swallows before quickly dragging the knife down on his wrist, yelping in pain as he drops the knife and doubles over. The cut immediately begins to sting – a searing type of pain that seemed to go on forever. It burned, and Luke felt so hot. He felt so hot, his throat was dry, he wanted to jump into the water, his head hurt. He had been biting his lip still, and when he cut his wrist, his teeth had bitten down harder on his lower lip. He’s sure it’s bleeding. He can taste it.

Luke’s other hand had dropped the dagger to instantly hold his other arm. The blood proceeded to run down his arm and onto his hand and in the water. His face twists into one of pain, eyes shutting extremely tight to keep the tears in and mouth forming a thin line. He tries his absolute hardest to keep the loud scream inside his throat from escaping.

Luke’s eyes open to a crack to see his arm. There was blood everywhere, and the fiery pain had yet to cease. His opposite hand felt sticky.

He’s startled when that same gentle hand is placed on his shoulder once more. His blurry gaze lands on Ashton, who is offering a pure white cloth. Luke is about to take it when Ashton bandages Luke’s wound himself, making sure to put the right amount of pressure. Luke stares at his wrist with tearful eyes. It hurts. Looking back at Ashton, Luke sees that he hasn’t bandaged his cut. None of the other cultists have bandaged theirs either.

“I brought this for you, too,” Ashton says, reaching into his cloak once more. He pulls out a small black book with plenty of pages, handing it to Luke.

Luke accepts it, flipping through the many pages immediately.

The chants.

Ashton has given him a book of chants. “Memorize them,” he says.

Luke gulps.

And the next thing that occurred was the eerie low voices of the cultists:

_“Damned are the ignorant, for her ladyship will not accept the dunces._

_Damned are the cruel, for her ladyship will punish the wicked._

_Damned are the unsettled, for her ladyship will refuse to help the undetermined._

_Her ladyship, we beg for forgiveness for any wrong doings we may have committed._

_Her ladyship, we offer your favorite meals fit for a feast._

_Her ladyship, accept the burning flesh we give you, and the fresh petals we hand over._

_Her ladyship, accept the blood of your kin, who wish to please you in any way they can._

_Her ladyship, accept the love and intimacy you see displayed here._

_The moon will take thee,_

_If thou will protect the stars,_

_And worship Mistress Nox to the fullest.”_

Everyone spoke in either deep voices or hushed whispers. All of the people’s voices combined to say these words was amazingly creepy, and Luke can’t help but be reminded of a horror movie. It gave him goose bumps.

Also, Luke didn’t participate in the chanting due to reasons. He was still in shock from. . . Everything. Who wouldn’t be? He stared at the pages with widened eyes even after the chanting was over and done with.

He feels an elbow nudge his arm, which causes him to turn his head to the side. Ashton is seen focused on the altar. And this is when Luke realizes that the altar is pretty damn large.

Luke eyes the two certain cultists walk towards the altar.

Luke’s face turns beet red when they slip the shadowy cloaks off of their shoulders.

The two cultists wore nothing underneath their cloaks.

One was a female, and the other was male. The woman lies down on the altar, and the man positions himself to where he is hovering over her.

Luke looks everywhere _but_ the altar. Everyone else seemed to be doing the opposite.

Luke, however, makes several accidental glances at the couple. He sees the man leaning down, kissing the girl. The girl wrapped her slender arms around his neck, doing the same with her legs around his waist. The man runs his hands up and down the girl’s sides, quickly moving to her shoulders and then to her breasts.

Luke doesn’t want to look, but he just. . . Can’t help it. . .

The image of the two is supposed to be intimate. The man reaches downward to finger the woman, and as he kisses her neck, she throws her head back, moaning loudly.

Luke’s mouth parts slightly, brows creasing. He was getting upset. He hadn’t been watching for long, nor had he been interested in watching the two in the first place. They were moving too slowly, for one. That wasn’t the main reason he was uncomfortable, though.

The thing that bothered Luke the most was that there was no passion.

What Luke saw was a pair of robots forced to fuck each other for no reason at all. There was no emotion behind them at all whatsoever. An act such as this saddened Luke. Sure, he was embarrassed to see it, but the least they could do is actually love each other.

“Our mistress believes in love more than anything,” Ashton had said. If that was true, then what the hell was this?

Luke turns his head slightly to see the other cultists’ expressions. The majority of them were blank, but some were rather. . . Depressed. Maybe they felt the same way Luke did.

Ashton’s face was the same. He stared blankly at the altar with dull eyes. He most likely knew that this wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

And, Luke wondered, was it always like this? Sending two automatons to make love, only to find that _they don’t know what love is?_

Luke fixed his gaze on the ground for the rest of the ritual, waiting impatiently for it to be over. Ashton seemed to be doing the same.

How sad.

 

 

After the ritual, Ashton wouldn’t let Luke leave, no matter how many times Luke tried to escape. Ashton held onto his wrist tightly as Calum sat on one of the stone benches.

“Can’t I go home now?!” Luke says in frustration.

“There’s one more thing you have to complete,” Ashton says.

“What?! I thought I did everything!”

“In the ritual, yeah. But not. . . In the cult.”

Luke blinks as his guard is let down. “What?”

“You need the mark.”

“What mark?”

Ashton pulls up his black sleeve, and Luke figures out what he means.

The rose tattoo.

“You need this.”

Luke goes completely silent. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. His mouth opens and closes repeatedly.

Ashton continues, “The others will need to know you’re one of us.”

Luke still doesn’t respond.

“Does he even know how to speak?” Calum says with an angry sigh.

Luke quickly stops himself from glaring. “Is it going to hurt?” he asks.

“Depends,” Ashton picks up the. . . Brander? Luke recognizes it as what he believes is a brander made for cows. Oh, dear, this is going to hurt like hell. “You can get it anywhere, by the way.”

Luke gulps. “U-Um. . .” Luke doesn’t want it on his wrist, that’s for sure. What if his mum sees it? His stomach? No, that’ll hurt really badly. Chest? Or nah.

Suddenly, Luke has a great idea!

His leg! His leg is a perfect place! Hm . . . Thigh? No. . . Shin? No. . .

The calf should work. Well, not exactly the back. Maybe the side? Yeah, the side of his calf should work. The outside part of his left calf will do perfectly! Luke voices his thoughts.

“If you say so,” Ashton says.

Luke rolls up his pant leg, and, struggling, decides to just take them off. Calum turned his head, but Luke noticed that he kept glancing back at the sight.

Ashton readies the brand, slowly getting closer. . .

And, well, not that many people got to sleep in peace that night, all thanks to Luke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's long and boring; i'm sorry. i promise u'll like the next chapter tho. i promisE  
> and hopefully liz won't find out about the rose tattoo, amiright?  
> my 5sos twitter: @dragonflyluke


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